


Heart on Her Fist

by EmberForge



Series: Bad Things Happen to Flawed People [6]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, implied Beau/Yasha, they just need to actually tell each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-10
Updated: 2018-09-10
Packaged: 2019-07-10 13:29:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15950321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmberForge/pseuds/EmberForge
Summary: Yasha expresses her emotions through violence. This is not always the most effective form of communication.





	Heart on Her Fist

_Molly slashed at his attacker, his swords making a satisfying connection before the figure finally crumpled to the ground. He just barely had enough time to whirl around to meet the axe now coming towards his head. After a few moments and a couple of close calls, the second assailant finally went down. Molly looked around wildly, trying to make a decision as to who he would help next, when a sudden guttural roar rose above the sounds of battle._

_Molly turned to see Yasha, standing over the unconscious form of Beau, pissed as FUCK. The rest of the individual battles suddenly stopped as everyone was transfixed on the assaimar's raging form. She was surrounded by three figures, one of which must have previously been Beau's adversary, the other two her own. In a stunning display of swordsmanship, she efficiently managed to take down the first attacker. The second was well on his way to joining his friend when he suddenly got a lucky hit in, managing to make her greatsword go skittering across the ground. Undeterred, Yasha charged at him with her fists, and he suddenly seemed to be rooted to the ground in fear. She was able to quickly take him down with a vicious blow to the head before turning towards the final attacker. The woman's eyes lit up in fear as Yasha's fiery gaze met hers, and before she could blink she was disarmed and on the ground as Yasha pummelled the shit out of her._

_Molly's attention was briefly broken from the scene when he heard noise behind him, and glancing around he noticed the three attackers left who had been engaged with other members of the Nein had started to flee, fear in their eyes as they ran. It only took a few crossbow bolts from Nott into their retreating backs before they were dispatched as well. Meanwhile, seeing that the fight was pretty much over, Jester had immediately rushed over to Beau, checking her breathing before clutching her holy symbol, and with a few muttered words and a flash of light, he saw Beau's eyes start to flutter open._

_Molly immediately rushed over to Yasha, who was still punching the unfortunate woman over and over as she lay unmoving on the ground. He tried to pull Yasha's arm away as she raised her fist for another blow, and while he wasn't very strong, the shock of the familiar hand made her falter for just a moment. "It's done," Molly told her, and directed her gaze towards Jester helping Beau slowly raise herself into a sitting position. "It's okay. It's over."_

...

The steps to the upper floor of the tavern were so well tread that they sagged in the center from many years and even more pairs of feet. Molly left behind the music and clinking of metal on wood as he nimbly made his way up the stairs, absently noting which ones creaked and groaned as he ascended. Not nearly as drunk as he might've liked to be, his mind was occupied with a singular focus as he made his way past the many rooms scattered along the hall.

Molly was met with a very familiar sight when he pushed open one of the doors the Nein had claimed for that evening. Yasha was sitting on the bed, methodically cleaning the dirt and grime of battle from her greatsword. He fully walked into the room and shut the door behind him, coming to perch on the edge of the bed next to her. She didn't acknowledge his presence, and he just watched as she set aside the rag she was using in favour of a new one, and started to methodically polish oil onto her sword.

Molly studied Yasha as she worked. The battle today certainly hadn't been the worst scrape that they'd ever been in, but it had taken them by surprise, and it was a bit touch and go until they got the upper hand. Molly had had a nasty gash on his side courtesy of one of the bandits, but luckily one of Jester's last healing spells had just seen to that. Yasha had said she was fine, and had wandered away from the group as soon as they had booked rooms at their current tavern, forgoing the celebratory drinks. Judging from the dried blood streaking down from her discoloured nose, however, Molly knew things weren't as well as she let on.

Finally, Yasha packed away the oil and rags, sliding her sword back into its scabbard with the pleasing sound of metal running along leather. She sighed, staring ahead for a moment right before she made eye contact with him for the first time since he'd entered the room. Molly rose one eyebrow, and after a moment Yasha gave him a nod.

Molly hummed as he reached out toward Yasha's face, and with gentle hands he started to probe the area around her nose. She didn't flinch, but then, that was typical for her. After a moment he pulled away, then reached for a cloth and dipped it into the bowl of water before carefully cleaning the dirt and blood from her face. "It's not broken, luckily," he said. "Just a bit of a nasty bruise. You'll avoid a lot of irritation if you get Jester to help with that when she gets some of her mojo back tomorrow."

He gently took one of her hands in his own, then carefully started to clean away the blood and dirt caked onto her knuckles. He absentmindedly rubbed small circles on the top of her hand as he worked. "It's been a while since someone managed to disarm you in combat." She said nothing as he set her left hand down at her side, then picked up her right and continued his ministrations.

"There are easier ways of telling someone you care about them then practically punching their enemies to death, you know," Molly continued. Yasha opened her mouth to respond, but he cut her off with a casual wave of his hand. "Don't try to deny it. Last time you got that worked up was when those drunken buffoons got the drop on me after that show in Elmcaster."

Molly felt the tendons in her hands tense at the reminder. He pulled out a roll of bandages from one of his many pockets and started winding them around her fists. "She likes you, you know. And, much as I hate to admit it, she's good people. One of the best we've met in a long while. You should tell her how you feel. Gods know she's too awkward to ever say anything, even if she's obvious as fuck about it."

"You... really think she feels that way?" Yasha asked quietly.

"What _is_ it with you two? Of course she does! She couldn't be more obvious if she were carrying around a giant sign that said, 'I'm head over heels for Yasha.' She does have good taste, I will admit," Molly said, giving Yasha a toothy grin. "But she has the social skills of a sentient log. And frankly, if either of you don't do something about the sexual tension soon, I _will_ lock you in a closet and not let you out until something interesting happens."

He finished tying off the last of the bandages. "Anything else that I'm missing?"

"Nothing important. Just a few bruises," Yasha replied, clenching her fists experimentally as he packed up his supplies. After a moment, she looked up and met his gaze. "Thanks, Molly."

"It's my pleasure, dear. Take it from me- life's too unpredictable to loose out on all the pleasures this world has to offer." He patted one of her large shoulders, and with that he sauntered out of the room, leaving a very contemplative Yasha behind.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a little more wary of writing Yasha, since we haven't had much of her character thus far. Still, the "strong, silent type" seems to fit pretty well from what we know. I hope you liked it!


End file.
